


Dear Dempsey

by DankTempsey



Category: Call of Duty
Genre: Alcohol, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 20:17:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5941738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DankTempsey/pseuds/DankTempsey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tank shrugged, noticing the poisonous quietude. He pressed his weight to the side of the doorway, looking to Richtofen's hand. Alcohol. One of the last things he'll want, but one of the things he needs now.</p><p>"What's that?"<br/>"I was going to ask you if you wanted to talk and have a drink, but I've realized how ridiculous of a request it is, so I'm sorry. I'll leave."<br/>"That's not ridiculous. It's exactly what I need. Come in."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dear Dempsey

**Author's Note:**

> This is after the ending of Der Eisendrache. I hope you all enjoy!  
> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated.
> 
> Sorry for double paragraph-ing. AO3 is acting weird.

 

Dear Dempsey 

 

 

There was a terrible period of time where he was conflicted on what to do. The feeling was absolute eagerness, nothing but a few ambitious desires to greet the American and strike up some victorious conversation. How could he have done it, though? Tank was trapped in his room for the rest of the night. He was left to the silence, the absolute contemplative quietness of the blue room. And yet, there Edward was. His palm pressed to the doorway, forehead as well, swallowing down his means of officially regretting this. Even if he would've been rejected, Richtofen still kept in mind that " _it's the thought that counts."_

 

And so, Edward knocked. And he waited... and waited... and waited...

 

During this time, he absent-mindedly pondered how it must've felt to go through what Tank had. It was some time before he officially realized that he did go through this burden. He didn't have any regrets of killing off that monster though, and was jerking an explanation of why he could've, but nothing came to mind. That evil man was absolute trash, more rubbish than the Richtofen-in-the-now. Or so he thought.

 

Edward noticed the over extended time of waiting. He understood why Tank wouldn't be able to greet him, but he needed Tank to greet him nonetheless. It was imperative to see him. If the marine would fall into this depression, he was somewhat sure the team would fall apart and fail with securing the rest of the future. Basically, without the strongest of the group, the other three were an entourage. Richtofen sighed. So far this plan sucked, and it seemed like it wouldn't be carried through or get any better. The gentleman stands upright, adjusts his attire and turns on his heel. 

 

 _How doltish of me_ , he thought. To think he would've walked in with two glasses, some wine, and talked through their feelings. It sounded incompetent now. He felt that post-regret try to strangle him and gobble the doctor up into his newfound guilt. His trivial steps became slower and slower, and he started to feel like he was going to puke.

 

His bile would have to wait. The door behind him creaked open and he heard a throaty tone bellow and vibrate the walls surrounding him.

 

"Richtofen..."

 

It's been forever since he's heard that voice. So strong, even when it's in desperate need for some comfort or reassurance. Edward whipped his head around, looking back at the American. 

 

"Dempsey. How are you?"

 

He wondered if it was sarcasm that spilled from those pink lips. Dempsey's definition of "how he was" could be anything, really. Mixed emotions deprived him from feeling the truth and sincerity in his heart. He knew it was the right thing to do, but killing a restrained man seemed tragic. Especially since it was himself.

 

Tank shrugged, noticing the poisonous quietude. He pressed his weight to the side of the doorway, looking to Richtofen's hand. Alcohol. One of the last things he'll want, but one of the things he needs now.

 

"What's that?"

"I was going to ask you if you wanted to talk and have a drink, but I've realized how ridiculous of a request it is, so I'm sorry. I'll leave."

"That's not ridiculous. It's exactly what I need. Come in."

 

Tank left the door open, strolling along into his room. 

 

It wasn't like Richtofen was being rejected, it seemed more of his own decision than Dempsey's now. He should go in... right? Tank did say "need". And Tank left enough space for Edward to slip through the door without touching it. He closed it behind himself, meeting Dempsey by the window.

 

Tank had just sat down, before he scattered pillows here and there for Edward to sit on. 

 

"It's nice of you to... uhm, come visit me. It means a lot, really." Interjected the marine. 

He was huddled up in a blue blanket, resting his head against the glass. Blue eyes pooled with unique discretion of blurting how he felt. Uncertain emotions weighed his heart down, and still he cracked a half-hearted smile. Richtofen envied that. He wished through the thick and thin he could even manage one onto his countenance. He's forgotten the last time he had worn a genuine smile. Has it been weeks, months, or years?

 

Edward nodded. He popped open the carafe and poured a stream of dark lavender into one of the glasses. 

 

"Of course. I'm always ready to lend a helping hand. We need you back on the team anyways." Responded Edward, handing one of the glasses to Tank. His facial expression changed, and winded up being a hoax of a grin.

 

"I don't know if I can. This is taking a worse toll on me than I thought."

"You have to. If we hurry, then this can all be over. We won't have to see each other again."

 

Dempsey rebroadcasted the same stark emotion, but with a few changes. He furrowed his eyebrows took a sip of the wine. Edward copied.

 

He spoke that last part a bit harsher than intended, perhaps with less emotion than originally planned on. He regretted doing this already. All he needed was more alcohol, perhaps he could loosen his sharp tongue and smooth his unintentional hurtful words. Richtofen downed his whole cup and poured another. He puts the glass to his lips, tears burning his eyelids. There was no pain in drinking wine, but there was a pain in not being able to express himself how he desired.  

 

This feeling got lodged in his throat. He felt his palms sweat and his heart throb in his neck. Where was the comical side jokes from the marine? Where was the humor that made everything lighter and more hopeful? Richtofen started choking up; he then started blatantly choking. In broken fits of wheezes and semi-wretching, Richtofen faces away and coughed his lungs out. 

 

Dempsey leaned over and watched the doctor struggle to obtain some real air. It took a while, but he'd eventually found it. Edward almost removed his button up, thinking that was truly killing him too.

 

"I didn't mean that, Dempsey," Edward spoke on, dabbing his lips with his pocket handkerchief, "I just don't think you find our company as accepting as your family's."

 

Tank huffed a short breath. Family to Tank was friends that enlisted along with him. They respected his decision to go to war, unlike his family, and cheered him on too. They even nicknamed him "The Tank" that got curtailed to "Tank". He smiled softly. How did that name get stuck with him so perfectly. He even forgets his real name sometimes.

 

"I don't really have family to go back to. That might be a reason I want to drag this out. I don't like being alone."

"I can't imagine you being alone. Your personality seems too good to be wasted in silence. That might be a reason I came here."

 

Dempsey looked up to Richtofen. The German's cheeks were beet red, as if he was slapped a myriad amount of times on each side. The American nodded, taking another sip from the lavish glass. He tilted it to Edward and the German shared more wine.

 

"You know what I hate..."

"What's that, Dempsey?"

"Wasting time, but I do it constantly."

 

Edward breathed out slowly. So the hero procrastinated. Constantly, apparently. 

 

"How so? I don't think you do at all. Right now doesn't count, though. You have a reason to have time to yourself." Said Edward, now standing, a hand packed deep in his pocket. Tank had flinched for a second and thought the doctor was leaving, almost immediately becoming upset. After watching his posture and reciprocating the stance, Tank replied.

 

"You literally said you needed me back with you guys, ten minutes ago. Make up your mind, Doc." The German grinned softly, shrugging too.

 

"What can I say Dempsey? Things change."

 

He would've mentioned his hate for that sarcasm, but it soon transformed into laughter between the two. Tank hummed, sipping the wine slowly from the cup. Richtofen went on:

 

"My opinion on you has changed greatly over the years. I'm not entirely sure if I feel the same way I did when I first met you."

"What do you mean, Richtofen?"

"Pity, I don't even really know what I mean myself. But I do know, the first time I laid my eyes on you, I was intimidated and fearful. You truly scared me out of my boots. And now, even if you still do intimidate me, I'm more comfortable with you, rather than Takeo and Nikolai. You've got me to spill secrets and tell the truths I thought were swept under the rug. You've confronted ideas with sophistication and helped me believe you were twice as smart as me. You've made me... believe in myself. I admire you for that."

 

Tank crossed one leg over the other, leaning further against the wall. He arched a brow, a soft laughter barking from his strong pipes. 

 

"So, you admire me now?"

 

Edward thought he was going to choke again. He's admitting feelings, now that's doltish. 

 

"Yes, I admire you," he said, ruefully babbling on afterwards, "that's why I came to share my compassion with you, and did so beforehand as well."

 

Dempsey bit his lip, "I don't know what came over me earlier, nor why I still have this bad feelin' inside me. It's almost like I... lost a part of myself. One that I didn't even know yet. I've been thinkin'. After we complete all of this, after we've killed and trapped the last soul into that... ball and make sure no more evil could be spread, would it be worth it?"

 

Richtofen's feelings were mutual on this subject. He wished he could see the future before it would already happen. This would give him the chance to change anything before it would be messed up. And as for killing their older-selves, Richtofen felt this dull emotion as well. All of it seemed very similar to Tank's, except Edward had to reset everytime he had failed his mission. Over and over he shot that monster directly on the core of his forehead. Over and over blood rained in small drops of salvaged lives. Over and over he felt depressed and losing himself, falling close to the bottle once he had finally made sure the older "Edward" was dead. That's been his real friend as of now; the bottle, he means. Tank did comfort him once or twice before, but it was nonchalant and disguised as a frenemy banter. Dempsey walked into the room and informed Edward they were ready for the journey to Der Eisendrache, while the German had been buried beneath covers, comforters, and pillows. Tank dragged Edward from the bed and fed him breakfast. He even laid out his outfit and brought in a wash cloth and bowl of water. Dempsey didn't show a lot of care through words, but he knew how to prove it with taking action. 

 

"Some part of me wants to believe that it will be. And I'm conflicted internally on the few next steps. But we need to understand that it truly is for the best. We stopped a man seeking God's power, one that manipulated his colleagues in the process. He cheated death, but finally found it behind my gun. He got what he deserved. The bigger evil is destroyed for now."

 

"And you call me a hero? Gee, we should be on our knees praising you."

 

Richtofen didn't know what he was blushing at this time. The compliment or the fact that he had Dempsey as an admirer now. He's always had a liking for the marine, and now the feeling was dimly mutual. Edward chuckled.

 

"It's nice to hear such coming from you. You're more... kind than you seem to rub off as."

"You doubt yourself, Edward and I do the same. But with all joking and foul play aside, I think I'm glad to have met you." 

 

Edward watched as Dempsey followed one foot in front of the other, dusting the ground with his bare feet obliviously. The American came closer with each prideful step, a smile replacing that grim expression.

 

"You've made me realize something, doctor," Dempsey said, now extending one hand over to the German and placing it onto his shoulder, "I should be grateful for my life. I don't have another one to live. I should be happy that I'm here, living in the now, rather than dreading the distant future."

 

Dempsey closes the space, stepping closely to his team leader. Richtofen stumbled backwards, clenching the corner of the wall for support, and staring down at the marine. He's never seen such a cut jawline, nor more perfect salmon colored lips, nor the most prettiest blue eyes in the world. This angle should've been so awkward for him, for anyone really, but Tank made it look so good. Richtofen sheepishly smiled, nodding at the prolong explanation.

 

"You are right, Dempsey. We should be thankful for our lives and live it to the fullest." 

 

Dempsey nodded, his other hand inching gradually to the doctor's arm. 

 

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course American, I'm all ears." 

 

Tank parts his lips, ponders upon the question, nods, then speaks.

 

"Do I mean more to you than being just a simple minded American? Do I mean more to you than just another person to admire?" 

 

Richtofen could hear the slightly slurred words; he could hear the broken tone of dependence. Even if Tank gulped a few cups of wine some time ago, he could still smell it faintly on his breath, it lingered to Edward's nose and suffocated him sweetly. The doctor knew it was the alcohol talking, and even if this was true and dear to heart, he didn't want to be caught in this feeling anymore. He's forgotten about the true "admiration" he had for Tank. It was infatuation, which soon turned to desire, and now greed. Richtofen smiled. He feels the memories pour into his mind slowly, like molasses dripping from sugar cane and onto the ground. Richtofen felt numb. All these memories that began to flood his mind were so real yet dupe. He had to decipher what had really happened and what was created in the back of his mind to help his deprivation of romance less fierce.

 

"You do mean more to me than that." Edward whispered, looking down at the space that was soon to be enclosed.

 

Dempsey nodded, his face an inch away from the German's. 

 

"How's that, Richtofen?"

"You're a... a good friend." 

 

Richtofen takes Dempsey's hands, and places them back to the American's side. He side steps to the right and faces the door. Edward smiled awkwardly, his body language becoming a bit more closed off and distant.

 

"I have to go, American. A lot of new plans require my assistance. I'll see you again tomorrow. In the meantime, I hope you become more accustomed to solving this empty feeling. Things will get better I'm sure."

 

Richtofen had already been at the door by the time he finished his statement. Flushed, the doctor bids a soft goodbye, then closes the door after him.

 

Uncertain feelings lingered within the air and stifled words stay clandestine in their mouths. 

 

Tank remained trapped in his room for the few last hours of dusk. He was being devoured by the hush, and forced to deal with the thoughts of hidden liking for another man's presence. And yet, there Edward was. His forehead subconsciously beating gently against the wood, a hand palming the frame too, as he consumed the lament his _good friend_ shared.

 

 

×


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